Wyvern
by Dragonfire Alchemist
Summary: Beruka makes an unlikely friend after completing a 'mission'. (Pre-Fates; rated T for mentions of death and blood)


It had been surprisingly simple.  
Beruka's breaths are slightly hitched as she stares at the bloodied corpse at her feet.  
Sure, he had put up a good fight. But Beruka still knew all of her old master's tricks like the back of her own hand.

It had been so ridiculously easy to find the weakness in his guard. To slip her dagger out and plunge it deep into his chest. To stand back and watch as the light faded from his icy-blue eyes.  
Something just… Felt off about this. The old man certainly had it coming, but… She felt a strange hollowness in her heart.

It hurt.

However, she would have to deal with the alien emotion later. For now, she had to get out of here, just in case someone decided to come along.

Well, it was three o'clock in the morning, but you never know.

Beruka silently tugs her dagger free from the corpse- hardly flinching as her knife rips free- taking with it blood and a few scraps of fabric. She pulls out a cloth and wipes the blade clean before wrapping the dagger up and stowing it away. She would give it a proper washing later.  
But, just as she was turning to leave, a light skittering noise across the cobblestones behind her draws her attention.  
Whirling in an instant, Beruka already has a fresh blade drawn and ready to swipe at whomever had made the unfortunate mistake of sneaking up on her.  
But there's no one there.  
The corner of her lip turns down into a frown. She could've sworn-  
"Rrrrehh!"  
-there was something there.  
More specifically, a tiny little bundle of dull scales chirping and growling at her feet.  
…Hm. Her master had always mentioned wanting to nab himself a wyvern, and it appeared as though he'd found a hatchling of his own. He'd said that he wanted to 'be like those fancy elite knights' after taking her to witness the Chevian military leaders in action. If she recalled correctly, he had been on a job and afterwards had taken her to 'sightsee' at the 'Faire' before they left for home. She'd only been eleven at the time, but she could still envision the graceful riders swooping down from above and attacking unsuspecting game animals, the wyverns almost dead silent as they flew in to snatch up their unsuspecting prey.  
Her master had loved every second of it. It had been the brightest she'd ever seen his eyes.  
The hollow, hurtful feeling begins to ache in her chest again.  
With a low growl and a quick shake of her head to dispel the distracting memories, Beruka sheathes her dagger and turns to leave once more. The rabbit-sized hatchling wasn't worth her time or effort.

The skittering resumes. Beruka tolerates it for a few minutes before turning around and giving the hatchling a withering glare. "Go away. Now."  
The little thing puffs up at her, making a loud chirp in response, but obediently moves no further. She gives it a lasting stare before turning on her heel and slinking away.  
At first, it doesn't follow her. Beruka was almost beginning to think that the tiny creature had given up… And then she heard the distant skittering and scuffling of claws on the ground. Beruka turns around quickly, a look of irritation on her face. "I _said_ to not follow me."  
The wyvern is a few yards back, peering at her from behind a bush. The hatchling lets out a happy croon before stumbling out from the bush and trotting over to Beruka.  
Beruka hesitates.  
Right… This thing didn't have a home to go to now. And, normally, she wouldn't have any qualms about leaving the creature to fend for itself, but…

She sees a little homeless girl huddled up on the street corner, begging for food.  
She sees a scruffy, middle-aged man grudgingly scooping the girl up, despite her weak protests, and taking her away.  
She sees the man feeding the girl rations, nursing her back to health before training her in the ways of killing as a profession.

She sees herself.

Beruka stares at the little creature before silently reaching down and picking it up. The wyvern, sensing that it has finally gotten its way, chirrups and purrs as it clambers from Beruka's hands to perch on her shoulder.  
The assassin watches the hatchling snuggling up into her scarf in bewilderment. It looks… Happy. Like it doesn't care about all the terrible things she's done.  
"Of all the people you could have chosen from…" Beruka mumbles quietly, hesitantly reaching her hand up before scratching under the creature's chin.  
The wyvern's purring grows louder, and it happily nuzzles its little head against Beruka's cheek.

She doesn't know why she suddenly feels so sentimental. Maybe it's because she had, mere minutes ago, killed her own master. Maybe it's because it's almost time for the sun to rise and she feels tired. Or maybe it's because she knows she doesn't deserve the wyvern's displays of affection.

Either way, her eyes begin to sting- a very unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling. She swallows thickly- was this the effect of some sort of poison? It's suddenly very difficult to breathe- before blinking away the sting as much as she can.  
The hatchling tilts its head at Beruka, curious as to why she was no longer scratching its chin. After a moment, it stretches out its neck to nibble at her hair, making several soft chirps.  
Coming back to her senses, the assassin glances at the wyvern and sighs.  
"…You are a terrible judge of character. You know that, right?"  
At the sound of her voice, the wyvern's tail begins to wag, and it takes a break from chewing on the assassin's hair in order to lick her cheek.  
"…Heh…" A hint of a rare, bittersweet smile tugs at the corner of Beruka's lips. "I suppose you don't know what you're getting into… And I suspect that I don't know what I'm getting into, either."

By the time the sun had begun to rise, the assassin- and her new partner- were long gone, retreating like shadows into the cover of the night.

The remains of Beruka's former master would be found by a curious passerby a few days later, lying on the ground in an alleyway by his home. Authorities never found the old man's killer, nor could they figure out why a single flower- a flower known to be native to Cheve, no less- had been placed on the man's chest.


End file.
